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Monthly Drabble Challenges - 2006

Next up for your drabbling pleasure is the strict and
solid Professor Minerva McGonagall.

Once again, you are required to explore any aspect of
this much-loved character. Her history, her family, her
teaching style, her possible past loves, her
relationship with Dumbledore -- anything goes with these
drabbles. Just make it accurate and interesting!

And the rules...

Drabbles must be between 100 and 499 words.

All MNFF's normal standards apply, including grammar,
spelling and formatting. Points may be deducted for
badly presented drabbles.

You can earn 5 points for your house for entering no
matter how many drabbles you post. The winner will be
awarded an additional 20 house points, second place 15
and third 10.

Challenge closes June 5th. (I'm on holiday the first
week in June, so you get an extra week with this. )

Use this form...

Author Name:
House: [you must enter this or you will not gain points]

Title:
Word length:
Warnings:

If you have any questions, please ask them in the "The
Question Corner" thread, NOT this one. This is for the
drabbles only.

And if you have any questions, get them in before May
29th. Any asked after that date won't be answered.

“Come in, Minerva,” beckoned Albus Dumbledore. They were in the Three Broomsticks. It was the fall, and Hogwarts was short of a Transfiguration teacher. The previous Transfiguration teacher happened to be Albus, who was now the Headmaster.

“I’m here for my interview. I wish to be the Transfiguration teacher.” Minerva informed the man. Dumbledore had a small grin placed on his face, and a twinkle in his eyes. His half-moon spectacles magnified this.

“When I looked over your application, you seemed to be just the person I was looking for. Plus, you are the only chance we have. I’m to busy, and you are the only one who wanted the job. So, tell me what got you interested in this position,” elucidated Dumbledore.
“Well, when I was about five, I saw my father transfigure a bowl into a pillow, and asked him all about it. He explained it to me, and I fell in love with the subject. When I attended Hogwarts, it was easily my favorite subject. During my fifth year, I knew that I would work for the schools, and that would be my job. I was excited when I heard the position would be open.

“My love of teaching came when I was ten. My little brother, Michael, asked me a question about playing the violin, and I taught him how to play. I loved it. I tend to be strict because of my Head Girl duties in seventh year. I took every rule seriously, and became strict in that order. I’m not afraid to take a decent amount of points from anyone.” She finished the outline of her love for teaching with a sigh.

“I believe you got yourself a job. Oh, and one more favor, if you don’t mind,” he added, “Would you mind becoming the Gryffindor Head of House? I know it is a bit sudden, but once again, that job needs to be filled.”

Minerva beamed. “I would love to. Thank you!” And without another word, she left.

Mallory Wentwood began her shift at the Shady Acres Constant Care Home the same way she always did, with a quick check of all of the patients on her wing. Mr. Daniels was busy trying to flirt with Ms. Seale while Mr. MacDonald was trying to take apart the television. Mallory checked on the few patients that kept to their rooms and headed for the end of the hall and a very special patient. The woman in room 315 never spoke and rarely even acknowledged that anyone was in the room with her. Still, Mallory could tell that there was something about her, and she had become dear to Mallory.

As Mallory stepped into the woman’s room, she remembered the day that she had shown up at the front door of the facility. She had been wearing odd clothes and had looked terrified. No one knew where she had come from or who she was so they had cleaned her up and made her comfortable. The nurses thought that someone might report her missing in the next couple of days and then the woman would be back where she belonged. Weeks went by and no one ever came looking for the woman. Eventually, Mallory had thought it wrong for her to not have a name. She never could have known that the name she chose, Minnie, would be so close to the truth.

Mallory checked the old woman’s vital signs. Minnie was strong, her heart beat with the strength of someone half Minnie's age and her body was in good shape, but she never got up out of the bed. Mallory could tell that Minnie had once been tall, but time in the bed had taken its toll and she was now permanently almost bent in half. Strange things often happened around Minnie as well. One day, the lights in her room had flickered for half an hour and another time, the glass of water on the table next to the bed had shattered. Still, Mallory spoke to Minnie as if they were carrying on a conversation and sometimes Mallory could almost hear her speaking back.

Mallory Wentwood could never have known that the woman she had come to care for had been a witch. There was no way that Mallory could have known that her Minnie had once been one of the strongest members of the Wizarding World. She also couldn’t have known the horrors that Minerva McGonagall had witnessed that had destroyed that world and left Minerva as the sole survivor. The last thing Mallory could never have known is that Minerva McGonagall was grateful for her care, and that had things been different, Minerva would have been her Transfiguration professor.

Steely grey eyes watched from outside as a frail looking woman, lovingly fed a wailing lard-of-a-child. The one that watched from the garden below shook her head for the baby had his bottle just 30 minutes ago. She padded slowly upon the well-manicured lawn, the place looked to be decent enough but it did not felt right. However, Albus Dumbledore does no make mistakes; she trusts the man, he knows what he’s doing. She did not protest as they left young Harry Potter to the Dursleys.

She bowed her head as she tried to discern the strange turn of events; Sirius Black one of her own was the traitor and Albus had vouched for Severus Snape. She would rather believe on Sirius than Severus yet, she trusts the man’s judgment. Accepted one that she had thought to be an enemy as a colleague and turn all thoughts away from her fallen flock.

She watched a young boy from a distance, frail and unsure of himself, an unhappy young man, yet he had his parents’ strong spirit. Harry Potter. Sometimes she wondered if the child would have been better off, and maybe loved with another family. The Dark Lord was dead, he need not the protection of Lily’s bloodline. She reminded herself to trust on Albus as she always had.

Voldermort had returned unable to touch Harry - due to Lily’s spell. Her faith on her mentor’s unfailing wisdom strengthened.

Black was innocent, he had quickly assisted young Harry to orchestrate an escape. It takes a great man to see past his mistake and help to fix it; her faith on him remained.

Her mentor dead, betrayed by Severus, had he made a mistake? A mistake that had cost his life? She realized that the man might had been fallable, yet she still hold great respect for her late mentor. His portrait would continue to watch over her and share some words of wisdom. Yet she now sits on his chair. She knows that the man was not infallible, but he stand by his decisions and accepts its consequence – As she now sits on his former place, she would be doing the same.

A young woman of fifteen sat alone in the Gryffindor common room. She was studying her Divination homework. I can’t believe I ever took this ridiculous subject. Thank goodness I can give it up next year, she mused.

Her planetary chart was nearly completed, and she was entering the final planet, Saturn. She stopped for a moment, confused. If she was interpreting the chart correctly, she was supposed to have the makings of a true Seer. Ha! she thought, highly amused. As far as she was concerned, Divination was the most useless branch of magic. She settled further into the worn velvet of the wing chair she’d claimed by the fire and sighed.

She drifted into an uneasy dream. There was a boy there, a boy with black hair and pale skin. He was sitting on a worn bed in a bare room. His eyes held a slightly hungry look that scared her – he was staring right at her, and she had the strangest feeling, almost as though he wanted to hurt her.

She woke with a start. How odd, she thought. She knew she’d never met the boy before, but she was frightened of him. Realizing it was nearly midnight, she organized the books in her bag, placed her homework in the front cover of her Divination book and carried it up to her dormitory. She quickly put her pajamas on and crawled between the crimson hangings of her bed.

That night, she dreamt of the boy again. How she knew it was him, she wasn’t sure; he looked nothing like the handsome youth in the room. He was an adult, still pale, but his eyes had turned red, with cat-like pupils, and his nose had flattened into a pair of snake-like slits. In her dream, he turned to another man and performed a curse she’d never seen before. She awoke screaming.

The other man in the dream was her Transfiguration Professor, Albus Dumbledore.

Seventeen year old Minerva McGonagall sat pouring over her Transfiguration notes in the library. Her N.E.W.T. for the class was the next day and she wanted to get the best possible score.

She heard soft footsteps behind her, and she turned to see Walburga Black walking towards her. Walburga was fairly thin with black hair (which suited her considering her last name) and her skin was almost a yellowish color. She was in Slytherin and not very nice to Minerva.

“What are you doing there, Minnie?” she sneered. She knew that Minerva hated to be called that.

“Studying,” Minerva coolly replied. Just ignore her and she’ll go away, she thought.

Walburga lifted a piece of parchment that Minerva was looking over. Minerva bit her lip to keep from doing something she would more than likely regret doing later.

“You should be in Ravenclaw, Minnie. There are a lot of freaks there, including your sister,” she sneered.

Minerva jumped out of her chair. “You leave Malvina out of this,” she whispered maliciously.

“Or what? You and your freak of a sister will come and get me?” Walburga snickered.

Minerva snapped. She whipped her wand out, flicked it, and where Walburga should have been, there was a small white ferret.

“Miss McGonagall,” came a soft male voice.

Minerva’s heart dropped. She turned around to see Professor Dumbledore standing there looking over his half-moon glasses.

“Professor…”

“Is that Miss Black?”

Minerva nodded her head silently.

Dumbledore flicked his wand, and Walburga was back to normal. She gave Minerva a look, and stomped from the library.

“I’m afraid that’s fifteen points from Gryffindor and a detention,” Dumbledore said, placing his wand back in his midnight blue robes.

Minerva nodded silently and started to pack up her things. Dumbledore stepped closer and asked, “Would you mind walking with me to my office? I would like the company, as I hate walking by myself.”

“Yes, sir.”

Once out of the library, Dumbledore turned to Minerva. “What do you plan on doing after Hogwarts?”

“I don’t know. Probably get a job at the Ministry.”

“I find the Ministry rather boring. Have you ever thought about becoming a teacher?”

“That would be great, but I don’t think I would make a good teacher.”

“What is this I hear that you are training to become an Animagus?”

Minerva’s jaw dropped. “H-how did you find out about that?”

“The portraits talk,” he smiled and gestured to a portrait in which a maid was listening intently, but when Dumbledore glanced at her, she went back to cleaning.

“Minerva,” he continued, “how would you like to be my apprentice for a few years?”

“I would love to be your apprentice!” she exclaimed.

“That settles it then. Next autumn, you will be employed here at Hogwarts. Now I suggest you go study.”

“Thank you so much, sir!” she exclaimed and ran off.

She has a lot of potential, Dumbledore thought and popped a Chocolate Frog into his mouth.

A thin, frail looking girl no older than 15 sat at her vanity and studied the image in the mirror. Astringent eyes searched the image for …something. Something her mother had. Something her sister had. Something her father had. Something she couldn’t ever seem to find there, in the white, wood framed vanity mirror. Her long nose made her eyes look smaller than they already were. Her lips seemed permenantly posed in an expression of indifference. Her stringy hair that naturally parted at the middle rested against her pallid skin, only elongating her face. The girl turned at the sound of the door creaking open.

“Minerva, what are you doing up? It’s nearly midnight.” Her father walked to her side and rested a hand on her shoulder as he kneeled and looked into the mirror. She looked at his reflection and smiled, weakly. His dark eyes softened.

“I wasn’t tired,” she said in a voice barely above a whisper. She lowered her eyes and turned away from him.

“What were you looking at, just now?” he ventured. Minerva looked back into the mirror. Her father’s eyes met hers in the glass. He smiled adoringly at her. “Do you know what I think would look lovely?” he asked her. She silently nodded her head. “A nice, little bun or braid,” he very ardently suggested. Standing back up, he took one last look at her. He cupped his hand under her jaw and tilted her head back to curtly kiss her hair. She smiled brightly with a certain revere only reserved for him.

He quietly exited the room, being careful not to slam the door. Minerva looked back into the mirror and smiled at her reflection. Pulling her hair back behind her shoulders, she reached for a ribbon to tie it up.

It was a dark, cold night when Minevera McGonagall slept in her study at Hogwarts. The wind blew against the sun doors slamming them shut; the windows explode a loud bang, awakening Minevera from her humble sleep.

“What is it Papa?” Minevera whispers, half asleep. There was no reply.

“Papa?” Minevera said louder, opening her eyes to see her surroundings.

“Oh” she mumbles disappointedly.

A knocking on her door brings Minevera to full consciousness. She spun around to see her oak door opening. A white, curly piece of hair appeared from behind the door.

“What is it you will be wanting tonight? She paused, “Albus”.

The body of this mysterious white chunk of hair because visible. It was Albus Dumbledore.

“Minevera, tonight I come looking for a story: the story of your life. Please enlighten me with the splendours of your childhood, your troubled teens and your naughty fourties”, Albus smiled.

“At this hour? I will not be able to recall all of it; I just have a lack of memory in the family part, how about you get me started, a question if you please,” Minevera said.

Another loud bang went off, Minevera looked behind her to see one of her sun doors had dislodged from its frame and fallen off and collided with the window in the process.

“Minevera I think we have little time as these winds are getting strong and I might have to preform a shield around the school she the students to not get a late night fright. Why did you become a Transfiguration teacher?” Professor Dumbledore asked.

“Albus, this is like questioning why I am a catholic or why you are a Headmaster, it is for the passion of the job. Originally I was quite fond of Herbology. I was a quite achiever in Herbology, not even my parents knew I was good at it until my report card came.

“I wanted to grow up with nature and all of its beauty but my parents convinced me to do transfiguration, supposedly I would ‘like’ it better. In time I grew fond of it, changing things, reversing the affects of nature and rearranging the evolution of animals or plants, Minevera paused. “I guess in the end, my parents made the right choice for me”.

“Minevera, only you can make the right choices…” The oak door of Professor McGonagall’s study burst open before Professor Dumbledore could finish.

“Headmaster, Flitch puffed, there is a first year girl walking around the halls crying”.

Resting against the high-back chair, wearing an emerald-green cloak and an expression that would have made Luna Lovegood proud, her eyes grazed through an official-looking parchment. The expression on her face could not be deciphered even by an Ancient Runes expert for it was neither a smile nor a frown, neither a grin nor a scowl. She was entrapped in a dreamy sort of trance, her eyes unfocussed, her thin lips curled into a vague smile, her hand fiddling with a piece of spare parchment.

Her nostrils flared unexpectedly (indicating that she was relieved of her trance) and her head flicked invariably towards the long line of portraits of the previous Headmasters and Headmistresses. Minerva’s eyes rested on the most recent addition, and she heaved a heavy sigh, unconsciously raising a laced handkerchief to blow her nose. The thoughts she had spared for him in the last week alone accounted for more than she had ever spent thinking on him for the rest of her life. He had filled her waking thoughts during the day and visited her amidst blissful fantasies at night. Minerva knew she would never ever meet someone of his calibre for who possessed that twinkle, that aura, that charm in magnanimous quantities? No one will be able to occupy that void, cast light into that darkness. No one.

Her relationship with Albus had been unique, for lack of a better word. Was it friendship? Most certainly. Companionship? Definitely. Love? Sure, but not love in the sense that most took it. It was love born out of care, out of trust, out of faith as opposed to love born out of lust. Whatever had been her relation with Dumbledore, Minerva was certain it had nothing to do with lust. The mere thought urged her to hex everything in the range of her sight, for how could she fall in love (in the sense most took it) with a man almost twice her age? No… Minerva had respected him to the point of worshipping him, but lust… that was out of the question.

Albus had stood by her through happiness and hardships, through troubles and tears, through turmoil and tranquillity, alike. He had been the solid wall she could lean on for rest, for comfort, for support. Now that the wall had crumbled into oblivion, Minerva had lost her crutch. It was like she had lost a limb for she was handicapped, lost without him.

“There, now, Minerva,” said a quiet voice behind her and Minerva heard it, bud didn’t believe. “You know I would have truly left this school – and you – only when none here are loyal to me.”

She whipped around in disbelief to face the portrait.

“Ah, you’re probably wondering how I knew what you were thinking?” said Dumbledore, his eyes twinkling. He chuckled softly and then heaved a sigh.